


Senses

by kayecho



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Canon Disabled Character, Chapter 9 Spoilers, End Game Spoilers, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Sexual Fantasy, chapter 13 spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-13
Updated: 2017-01-25
Packaged: 2018-09-17 04:03:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9303332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kayecho/pseuds/kayecho
Summary: Ignis and Prompto's relationship through the course of the game explored through each of the five senses.





	1. Sound

Prompto always had a distinct voice. It was young and excitable with an edge to it that made it sound like he never quite left puberty. It should have grated, but there was something melodic to it. There was a pleasant lilt to it at all times, whether he was talking nonstop, or whistling jingle from Wiz's Chocobo Ranch, or humming the tune to his own made up victory theme. Ignis quite enjoyed the sound of it. He was reassured by it, by the sound Prompto's constant chatter in the seat next to him, even while Noctis dozed off in the back seat, and Gladiolus hid into the pages of his books. Therefore it was impossible for Ignis to not recognize the sound of Prompto's voice, late at night, shrouded in darkness.

Ignis stayed awake late into the night, at first a practice to keep watch for the camp; eventually out of habit. He doubted anyone else could hear it, because Noctis could sleep through a stampede of catoblepas, and even then the sound of Gladiolus's rhythmic snoring was likely enough to drown that out. However with his back towards the tent, one leg crossed over the other as he stared quietly into the fire, he would be treated to the sound of Prompto, usually so loud, so unabashed, reduced to nothing more than muffled whimpers and bitten back moans.

Ignis couldn't help himself, painting a mental image to accompany the late night din. It always started with a hitch in his breathing, Prompto buried deep under the covers, his body pulled into a tight ball. Eventually he would stretch out thin limbs, one hand sliding down between his legs, cupping himself through the thin cotton of his briefs. Then came the sound of Prompto muffling his whimper. teeth biting into his blanket in an attempt to hide his activity.

Pale hand sliding past the waistband, wrapping around swollen cock, pulling gently. A sharp gasp swallowed back and Ignis imagined Prompto turning his face, shoving into the pillow as he rocked his hips thrusting in and out of his tight fist. He could hear the sound of fabric rustling, a gentle, barely there sound of swishing and whooshing as Prompto shifted and moved beneath the sheets.

Breaths that turned to pants, as Prompto would turn his head, freeing himself from the suffocation of the pillow, needing to breath as his care grew more frantic. Ignis could hear his own heartbeat thundering in his ears, the sound of his blood rushing with arousal in his veins. The sound of his breathing matched Prompto's as gloved hands tightened into fists. His foot jittered, impatient.

By now Ignis came to recognize the sound of Prompto nearing completion. He would forget to bite back, to muffle, to swallow the noise of his pleasure, only to remember at the last moment to bite his sheets as he came with a strangled sound that used to resemble a name. Every time Ignis would strain to hear that word, to interpret it, to work it out. It was like a worm of curiosity, desperate to learn who it was that Prompto thought of every time.

Sometimes Prompto would emerge minutes later from the tent, looking a little worse for wear. Sometimes their eyes would meet and Prompto would offer him an awkward smile. "Gotta take a leak," he'd say, pointing with his thumb before hoping down from the haven, disappearing into the darkness.

And even more rarely, Prompto would sometimes join him in front of the fire, legs pulled up against his chest. "Don't you ever sleep?" he'd ask every time.

"I do, certainly not to the length that Noctis sleeps, but I do."

"No one sleeps as much as Noct, but you're almost always awake."

"I'll retire shortly after you do."

"And then you'll be up before us to make breakfast." Prompto leaned back to look at him, head tilted back. "You're really great, you know that?" Those words were different than the usual conversation, enough to catch Ignis off guard.

"Excuse me?" Ignis pushed up at edge of his glasses, though he didn't glance down, perhaps out of fear of meeting Prompto's gaze, that their eyes meeting would grant the younger man the privilege into seeing the inappropriate thoughts he had had minutes earlier. Eyes provide, sometimes, too much clarity.

"You're great. You feed us. You protect us. You give us advice. You're sensible. You drive us everywhere...."

"And I listen to you prattle continuously about nothing in my left ear all day."

Prompto went quiet, and Ignis could hear him bite his bottom lip after letting out a sigh. "Sorry."

Ignis shifted in his seat, uncrossing his legs and folding his hands in front of him. "Don't be sorry. I actually enjoy it. It is an efficient way of keeping me cognizant after several hours of chauffeuring."

"Cognizant....?"

"Aware. Awake, we'll say."

A long moment of silence passed between the two of them, before Prompto finally moved, jumping to his feet. "Good. Then I'll keep right on talking your ear off, then."

Ignis used this moment to tilt his head back and look up at the younger man, looking into wide, blue expectant eyes that always seemed to shimmer with some form of unbridled joy. It occurred to him, in that moment, just how much he really quite liked the sight  
of those eyes when they were trained on him and only him. There was a kind of innocence in his look that reassured him, knowing he hadn't gotten caught. "I look forward to it."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A nice short start. Let's see where it goes.


	2. Smell

Ignis awoke to the acrid stench of bread burning. He had only just managed to doze off after a long night of driving. Despite the fact that he felt slightly more comfortable with it now that Noctis had proven his strength, he still did not enjoy the act, and it took quite some time before his nerves calmed down enough for him to catch a wink before sunrise. He reached for his glasses and slid them on, before moving towards the source of the offending smell. It was accompanied by the smell of fire and the smell of raw chopped vegetables.

He emerged from the tent and was treated to the sight of Prompto, fumbling with something in his hands before dropping it with a disappointed sound. "Ugh, dammit."

Reflexively, Ignis stuck his foot out to stop whatever rogue ingredient had escaped. A sharp onion-like scent wafted up to meet him. "May I ask what you are attempting to do, Prompto?"

In the light of the fire, Ignis could see the sheepish expression bloom on the younger man's face. His cheeks darkened as his lips curled into an awkward smile. "I was just, uh, trying to make breakfast. I figured you've been doing quite a bit more driving than usual, so I thought.... I've watched you make breakfast enough times, and..."

Ignis stooped towards the shallot slice on the ground, picking it up and holding it out for Prompto to take. "And it smells as if you've done a bad job of actually noting how I make breakfast. How many slices of bread do we have left?"

"Just two. I burned the rest of them."

"If you're willing to sacrifice your own slice, and I am willing to sacrifice my own, then at least Noctis and Gladio will be fed come morning, at least by toast." Ignis moved closer, peering down at the table, at the work that Prompto had been attempting to do on his own. He placed a gentle hand on Prompto's back. "And what have you done with this poor vegetation? You've mutilated them."

"I was trying to cut them."

Ignis sniffed a few times before reaching for the knife, poking it through the disordered ingredients. "Peppers and shallots? Are you trying to make my curry soup?"

"You know it's my favorite."

"Well, yes, I do; however it is hardly an appropriate breakfast dish, and we don't have a chikatrice."

Prompto kicked a foot, sheepish. "Can you do anything with it?"

Ignis gave a heavy sort of sigh, reluctantly charmed by the younger man's attempt. It wasn't often anyone else volunteered to help with cooking, and as much as he enjoyed the activity a part of him appreciates the rest. He maneuvered himself around Prompto carefully, his hand running gently across his back. "Do we have any eggs? It is quite difficult bungle up an omelet, so long as you follow my directions."

"Wait! You're still gonna make me do it?"

"You volunteered. You may as well see it through, Prompto. Now, if you would. You'll need four eggs, and grab some of those malmashrooms while you're at it."

Prompto hesitated over the case of ingredients, hemming and hawing over the contents until Ignis peered over his shoulder, reaching around him to point out what he had asked for. "The malmashrooms," he repeated, "The ones right... there." His voice wavered as he realized he had put himself just close enough that he could breathe in the younger man's sweet musky scent, and he took a step back, putting distance between them. 

"Oh. Oh yeah. Duh." Prompto laughed, grabbing the malmashrooms and the eggs with a kind of blissful ignorance, completely unaware of being the object of any inappropriate thoughts. 

Ignis hovered near by, giving Prompto directions as they worked. He helped occasionally, taking over whenever he noticed the food at risk for being ruined, reaching over him, around him. At one point he swiped his thumb over a pale freckled cheek. "You've got egg on your face." 

"Well, you did catch onto how bad I am at cooking." Prompto was grinning, despite the fact that his cheeks were darkening into a healthy looking shade of red. 

Ignis paused, confused for half a moment, half mesmerized by the blush, before he chuckled, reluctantly charmed by the pun. He opened his mouth, about to respond, but he could hear the sound of a zipper being undone, the sound of a tent flap opening. 

"Something smells delicious." Gladiolus's loud voice boomed out towards them. 

Ignis drew his hand away from Prompto's cheek, as he turned to face the older man. "Gladio! You won't have any breakfast until you wake Noct up." 

"Why me?!"

"You're the last one in the tent with him. Take some responsibility." Ignis tilted his gaze in Prompto's direction, catching his eye, giving him just the slightest smile. He recieved an amused expression in response, blue eyes sparkling in the light of the sunrise.


	3. Touch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, we're 3/5 for senses now. Taste and Sight are the last two, and the mature rating will likely have to move up to explicit for the next chapter.

First there was red, and then the pain flooded his senses before the darkness fell. Ignis dropped to his knees, fell forward into a firm body. He felt hands on him, a touch that was frantic at first, and then gentle, and then there was pressure. The same hands were tying something around his head, speaking in a voice that sounded muffled. He couldn't hear anything more than the rushing of the blood in his ears.

Ignis reached, sliding his hands up along thin, muscular arms. He felt gloves and leather bands, and he skimmed his hands up further until they found the frayed edges of fabric; fabric that he grasped, clinging in his desperation. He tried to form words, he wanted to ask what happened, but he couldn't. He could feel the world swimming around him. He was moments away from fainting. 

Strong arms gripped his waist before he felt himself being picked up, swung over arms like a bride. His head fell on firm shoulders, resting there as he lost track of time, blacking out from pain and injury. 

Ignis awoke to darkness. He woke without being able to open his eyes. They felt cemented shut, and he groaned, shifting in stiff sheets. He reached a hand out, searching for his glasses by habit, though he knew deep down inside that it would be futile.

Fingers brushed fingers and he paused before grasping the hand at his bedside. Too slim to be Gladiolus's, not firm enough to be Noctis's. He ran his thumb experimentally over smooth knuckles, the hands of someone who had lacked all the years of fight training that his colleagues had endured.

"You, uh... You doing ok, Iggy?"

"Noctis."

"No, Promp--"

"Yes, I am aware. How is Noctis? What has happened?" Ignis could feel Prompto's hand trembling beneath his own. He could feel the nerves and hesitation in how tense the muscles were. It would take a pregnant pause before Prompto spoke, voice low and barely there. He described everything with an incredible amount of brevity, as though he were hoping that things would change if he didn't go into detail, that his story would be wrong.

Ignis took pity on Prompto eventually, asking him to stop, that he need not say anymore. He let go of his hand and touched his face, feeling the bandages there. He was reminded of the fabric tied around his head, of the arms he felt catching him when he fell. His hands had skimmed up across smooth skin, unmarred with scars, and he sat up as best as he could. He slid his hands slowly up Prompto's arms, feeling the warm skin prickle into goosebumps. He stopped. "Your arm band."

"Wh-what about it?"

Ignis squeezed a naked bicep. "It's gone."

"It's just dirty, actually. It... uh... it kind of got a lot of blood on it." Prompto shivered under Ignis's touch, as hands slid up to touch his face, to feel it beneath his calloused palms.

"How badly were you injured?" Ignis ran his thumbs over the smooth apples of Prompto's cheeks, over the pale skin with the spattering of freckles that he can't see. He didn't feel any scars, any bandages. He thought about those blue eyes and he wondered how they looked in this moment. What sort of look was he making? Ignis felt Prompto shake his head.

"It wasn't my blood." Another long beat of silence that only ended when Ignis finally pulled his hands away. "It's yours."

"So that was you." Ignis flexed his hands carefully, almost experimentally as he recalled the feeling beneath him when he had gotten injured. "Smooth skin. Slim body. Muscular arms. Warm." He listed the traits slowly, the things he noticed in that moment. "You are stronger than you look, Prompto."

Ignis flinched when he felt fingers on his cheeks. The touch was hesitant, nervous, tracing the bandages wound around his head. "Are you okay, Iggy?"

"You asked me that already."

"You didn't answer!"

"Ah." Ignis considered for a moment, to reach for Prompto's hands, to remove them from where they had invaded the space of his injury, but he didn't. A small part of him rather coveted the feeling, that he was fortunate enough to be on the receiving end of such a gentle touch. He couldn't recall a time when anyone had ever expressed so much concern for his well being. "I am well enough," he finally answered. "I am... plunged in darkness, of course and that will take some time to get accustomed to, but I feel quite hale and hearty considering."

As Ignis spoke, Prompto's fingers pulled away, and he almost immediately missed the touch. "Until you get your sight back, let me help you."

"And if I never get my sight back?"

Almost immediately, Prompto reached for Ignis's hands, giving them a squeeze. "Don't say that! You worry about it when you're done healing. You'll get your sight back. It wouldn't be right if you don't."

Ignis shifted his grip, intertwining their fingers for only the briefest of moments before I pulling his hand away, trying to maintain his usual composure. An injury was not an excuse to indulge himself, despite the fantasies he'd had in the past. "Prompto, we will worry about Noctis first and foremost. We will consider my injuries later."

"Iggy...." 

"Prompto, I appreciate the concern but I will be just fine. I will manage. I may never be the same person, but my priority has always been and will always be Noctis."

There was a beat of silence before Ignis felt warm fingers on his own, hands intertwining. There was a squeeze, as if Prompto were refusing to let his hand go. "If you're not going to worry about yourself a little, I'll worry about you for you." 

"And who will worry about you?"

"Oh, I don't matter. I'm just a pleb."

"Prompto."

"Or, I don't know. You could worry about me a little bit."

Ignis felt the smooth pad of Prompto's thumb ghost over his knuckles. He tilted his head slightly in the younger man's direction. 

"Sorry, that was stupid. I didn't mean it like that. I know, I know. Noct, Noct, Noct." The words emerged like awkward laughter and Prompto started to pull his hand away, but Ignis didn't let him, hand tightening on warm skin. 

Ignis considered his options. He considered pulling Prompto the rest of that distance between them, considered pulling him into his personal space so he could feel the heat of his body against his own again, feel soft skin against his cheek. He considered pressing their lips together, to feel his breath against his skin. In the end he didn't do any of that. Instead he brought his other hand to Prompto's cheek, touching it gently. "I do not know how much good being worried over by an injured man will do for you, but I will continue to worry about you until you cease helping me."


	4. Taste

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the most mature out of all the chapters. Enjoy!

Sometime, in the darkness, as Ignis sat on the hotel balcony listening to the constant churning noise of the EXINERIS power plant providing Lestallum with a constant source of light, he felt a hand slip into his own: once soft fingers roughed with days of torture, and he gave it a gentle squeeze before tilting his head in the direction of the warmth he felt against his side. He considered speaking, but he preferred the silence. Without words, he could hear the sound of two hearts beating out of rhythm of each other.

It would take several more minutes before Prompto's voice emerged, quiet and hesitant. "Do you think Noctis is okay?"

Ignis considered his options, the fact that Noctis had not returned after he had left them to attempt to retrieve the crystal. None of them wanted to admit the worst aloud. It was one thing to lose a king and a prince, it was another thing to lose a friend and a brother. He swallowed, trying to get rid of the lump in his throat. "Of course. He was the one that sent that draconian rescue us. I am certain that whatever path the Six have placed him on, he will be protected by them until it is time for us to resume our duty."

Prompto remained quiet in response, as if having a hard time digesting the words. Ever since he had been retrieved, since he came out to them about his identity as Niff, his positivity and optimism had taken quite the blow. Ignis pulled Prompto closer, until he felt a head rest, heavy, on his shoulder. He untangled their fingers to slide that hand into soft hair, petting the younger man gently. He felt his body tense and then relax almost immediately. "Are you okay, Prompto?"

"Uh." He sounded startled by the question, and Ignis could feel him lift his head up slightly, as if considering pulling away. "Does it matter?"

"Of course it does. I'm worried about you."

"Oh you. That. It wasn't. I didn't mean it."

"You will find, Prompto, that I make my own decisions without manipulation. My concern has nothing to do with your request."

Ignis felt Prompto's head rest a little more firmly on his shoulder again, before slim arms wrapped around his waist in a warm hug. "I'm okay," he finally muttered in a quiet voice. "Bruised, but mostly whole."

"Mostly?"

"Mostly, yeah. I'm recovering. I'm still trying to process the fact that I've told you guys what I am, er-- that and Noctis disappearing, and you're blind, and Gladio's left us and... It's a lot. I feel like I'm drowning in emotional stuff." Prompto shifted slightly, and Ignis felt him push his face into his shoulder. "I keep thinking we need a distraction, but what's gonna distract us? Outside, inside, it's all awful. It's only been three days and there's barely any light left."

Ignis was quiet for a long moment, considering his options, before he moved. He carefully removed Prompto's face from his shoulders and cupped it with his hands. His brows furrowed behind his glasses as he ran his thumbs over the apples of Prompto's cheeks. He heard Prompto start to speak, but he didn't give the opportunity to finish before leaning in kissing him, feeling chapped lips against his own. He felt Prompto stiffen, and hands tightened on his arms and for half a moment he swore the younger man was going to push him away, but then lips parted, giving in with a soft sound. His hands moved from soft cheeks into soft hair, dragging him minutely closer.

Prompto tasted like something spicy and warm, not unlike the curry he enjoyed so much. It wasn't what Ignis had expected, but as he considered it, it would have been inappropriate for Prompto to taste any other way. It was intoxicating and addicting. It matched his sweet musky scent, mixed with the sandalwood and rose of the Leville Hotel soap. 

The kiss was slow and easy, mouths yielding to each other. Ignis felt Prompto's tongue slip past his lips, felt it against his own in a way that pulled a sound of pleasure from his chest. The kiss broke, and Ignis heard the younger man laugh, could feel the breath against his cheek. He wondered how he looked, if that pale freckled face was flushed dark with pleasure. His own cheeks burned.

"What was that about?" Prompto was still laughing when he spoke, and Ignis was glad to hear it, though he wished he could see it. "Was that to distract me?"

"Did it work?"

"It could be better, to be honest."

Ignis straightened his back slightly, his eyebrows lifting in an expression of offense. "Excuse me for being out of practice."

Prompto laughed a little harder then. "No no. Not the kiss. That was great. I meant the distraction. You could... do a little more to distract me, that's all I'm saying."

"Is that how it is?" Ignis stretched out his legs before standing, pulling away from Prompto. He reached out to feel for the balustrade, using it to guide himself back towards the hotel room in lieu of using his cane. He still preferred independence from it, even though he knew it was mostly a necessity.

He waited a beat, listening for footsteps, waiting for Prompto's warmth to brush near him. When it didn't come, he glanced back with a tilt of his head. "Are you going to join me or not?"

There was a moment of silence and then the sound of someone scrambling to their feet until he felt a hand on his back and then there came kiss to the corner of his mouth. "I wasn't sure if I was invited."

Ignis's lips curled into an amused expression, before he took Prompto's hand and started towards the bed. He was a little more confident in the layout of the room, having felt it out every day since arriving, but he still wasn't prepared to move straight into a chair, walking into it with a huff. He stumbled back, hand reaching. "That was not there earlier."

"Oops."

"Oops?"

Prompto's hand squeezed Ignis's and his voice was sheepish. "I did that, sorry."

"I am not going to even ask why, but you are going to guide me the rest of the way, lest you prefer I trip over another rogue piece of furniture." 

Ignis received a sound of agreement in response that was accompanied by the sound of slightly embarrassed laughter. Prompto guided him carefully, and he could hear the younger man pushing things out of the way, maneuvering him through the over sized hotel room until Prompto gave him a nudge, and he sat back carefully onto the bed. 

There was the sound of a deep breath and then Ignis felt the bed shift beneath him, bowing at the added weight before he became very aware of Prompto straddling him, sitting on his lap, arms looping over his shoulders. Their noses brushed together.

"Glasses," said Prompto, before their lips could meet for a kiss.

"What about them?"

"Should I remove them?"

Ignis was caught off guard by the question. His gut reaction was to say yes, of course, but he hadn't considered it. He didn't need them anymore, certainly. He wore them mostly because he was used to the feeling, because he didn't want to share the severity of his injury, healed as it may be. Now, with this kind of intimacy, the glasses were in the way Prompto didn't have to see what hid behind them. "You may not want to. I hear it's difficult to look at."

There was a moment of pause, before Ignis felt Prompto remove the glasses. His one remaining eye squinted. Blind as it was, it could still see light, which ached in a way he couldn't describe. He felt butterfly light kisses on his face, lips ghosting over the scar, over his fluttering lashes.

"Is that okay?"

Ignis slid his hands up into Prompto's hair. "Does it look okay?"

"It looks disgusting, honestly.

Ignis's hands tightened and he dragged him in for a kiss, devouring the laugh that was bubbling from Prompto's lips. Somehow, the sound of it made it so much sweeter. He pulled him down against him and the laugh dissolved into a whimper as the kiss deepened with hunger and need. They kissed for what felt like ages, Ignis determined to taste every inch of Prompto's spicy warmth. Teeth bit, nipped and tugged. Lips were sucked until bruised. It was, in the moment, exactly what they both needed. It was the perfect kind of distraction, the sort of thing that brought them out of reality and dropped them into the temporary fantasy of intimacy.

The shape of Prompto's arousal pressed against Ignis's stomach as lithe hips rocked, pushing forward against him. He broke the kiss long enough to catch his breath and to roll Prompto over, pressing him into the soft mattress of the hotel bed. He kissed a line from his jaw down his neck. He bit where neck met shoulder, tasting the salt of Prompto's skin on his tongue. He was rewarded with the sound of a whine, the feeling of hips rocking up and Prompto tugging impatiently at his clothes.

There was a fumbling of limbs, as they worked Prompto out of his vest, out of his t-shirt and then Ignis out of his even more complicated dress shirt and it's buttons.

"Thank god you aren't wearing that shirt with the suspenders and the even more buttons and the even more buttons under buttons."

"I think the suspenders are dashing."

"They're sexy, sure, but they've always been something of a pain in my imagination."

"Your imagination, hm?" Ignis took advantage of the stripped away clothing to run his hands along Prompto's smooth skin, to paint a picture of him with his minds eye. He wondered if those freckles extended all the way down, a splattering of color on pale skin. "I may be forced to save that questioning for another day. In case we need further distractions." He felt Prompto's chest heave with a sigh of relief before he leaned in and kissed along his collar bone and shoulder until he found his way to his under arm. He pushed his nose into the coarse blond hairs there, into to scent of Prompto's musk. His tongue flicked out to lick, to prod and slide against the sensitive skin. The taste was bitter and salt in the best kind of way. Buried there, savoring him, he felt overwhelmed to the point of dizzy. Underneath him, Prompto squirmed in surprise, and then gasped before his body stilled and he was digging fingers into Ignis's back.

Ignis pulled back and slid his hand across Prompto's lips, as if trying to make out his expression. He felt swollen lips part that wrapped around his fingers, sucking eagerly. The sensation went straight to his cock, making it throb is need and he reflexively pushed his hips against Prompto's firm, muscular thigh. He licked his lips and kissed further down, fingers slipping, reluctantly, from the warm wetness of the younger man's mouth.

Beneath him, Prompto was thin and pliable, stomach flexing underneath Ignis's ministrations. He traced the shape of his muscles with his tongue, dipping along the curves until he reached the waistband of leopard print jeans. He paused, sliding his fingers across the buckle and zipper. He could feel Prompto's heat and hardness twitch beneath his touch. Prompto's fingers curled in his hair, and he felt him tug eagerly.

"Iggy, please."

Ignis chuckled softly, working Prompto's jeans open slowly. He was careful, feeling it out, unfamiliar with the clasps of the buckle, and he could feel Prompto tense impatiently beneath him, felt hands tightening in his longish hair, pulling. When the zipper of those jeans fell open, he was greeted by the warmth of Prompto's cock, and he snuck his fingers past the placket of his boxers. He found soft velvety skin, hot to the touch. Prompto's gasped, body tensing beneath him, hips rocking upwards into the touch. Ignis tightened his grip, pulling the cock free from it's cotton confines. He dragged his thumb across the head before sliding his fist over the length of it. He stroked him once, twice, hearing Prompto's breath hitch in anticipation.

Licking his lips, Ignis moved to nuzzle the organ. His mouth watered at the scent, at the prospecting of wrapping his lips around Prompto's cock, but he forced himself to wait. He forced himself to drag it on, to build up the suspense. He felt Prompto squirming beneath him, hips pushing into his fist and against his cheek. 

"I never," Prompto started, breathless, "pictured you as the teasing type."

Ignis tilted his gaze up towards Prompto. His one good eye fluttered slightly. He wanted so badly to see that face, to see his pale cheeks red with arousal, to see those blue eyes looking at him and only him. He could only imagine it, only paint the picture in his mind's eye. He licked his lips. "Obviously you haven't been paying attention."

"I've been paying attention to other things." Prompto twisted his fingers in Ignis's hair, tugging. "C'mon, already. You're driving me crazy! This is a distraction, alright!"

Laughing did not come easily to Ignis, not on a regular basis, and especially not after everything that had happened to him, to them. With Prompto, however; together like this, the laugh came too easily. It bubbled up to the surface and he turned his blind gaze away, feeling his cheeks burn red. He rubbed his lips over the tip of Prompto's cock, painting them with precum. He licked them first, tasting the salt there, like the best sort of seasoning. It sent a chill down a spine, and he opened his mouth wrapping his lips around the head of his cock, giving it a firm suck.

The taste of Prompto filled his senses, the salt of his skin on his tongue, the musk of his sweat, the sweetness of his precum. There was the natural spiciness, the bitterness, the tartness, essence of Prompto distilled into this one moment as his mouth bobbed up and down the length of his hard cock. The soft velvet skin slid easily between his lips as he moved. Beneath him Prompto's breath hitched, felt him shift and shove his toes into the mattress as he jerked his hips up into the heat of his mouth.

Ignis moaned around the organ as he swallowed Prompto as deep as he could manage, feeling the head of that cock push against the back of his throat. The motion dragged a whine from the younger man, and hands pressed hard on his head, holding him there, nose shoved into coarse hairs, forced into breathing in Prompto's scent. He felt, in this moment, the he could live like this forever, buried against him, choking on him. 

"Oh fuck, Iggy. Ignis." Prompto's grip loosened, enough to let Ignis move his head again, to bob his mouth faster. Moments later, he felt Prompto's cock pulse in his mouth, then the flood of salt and heat, forcing him to swallow, devouring his flavor. Eventually, he lifted his mouth away from the softening organ, and before he could slide his tongue over his lips, he felt hands in his hair, pulling him forward, dragging him in for a kiss.

A groan rumbled forward from Ignis's chest, feeling Prompto's tongue swipe around the inside of his mouth, as though he were determined to taste himself. He could feel the vibration of Prompto's own sounds of satisfaction, feel it through the length of his whole body. 

"My turn next." Prompto's voice was thick with pleasure. There was a playful lilt to it as Ignis felt Prompto's tongue slide across his lips, tracing his cupid's bow.

"Your turn?"

"I'm not about to let you have all the fun! Besides, it wouldn't be fair."

Ignis bit back a moan when he felt Prompto's hand find his arousal. He pushed his hips into the touch and let himself be manipulated: rolled over, pushed into the mattress. He heard the sound of rustling fabric and eventually felt the younger man on him, undressed, skin warm laying on top of him. Smooth hands slid, eagerly across his skin and he felt butterfly soft kisses work their way down his chest and he pushed his fingers into Prompto's hair. A huff of breath against his stomach and then the sound of muffled laughter made him still. "What's wrong?"

Soft hairs brushed Ignis's skin as Prompto shook his head. "Nothing. I'm just thinking of how unbelievable this is. I mean, a niff like me, with Ignis Scientia of all people, half naked and hard under me? What the heck did I do right to deserve this?"

"You were you," was Ignis's response. "And that's more than enough for me."

Prompto laughed a little more heartily into Ignis's stomach, before finally sitting up and Ignis felt deft fingers opening his trousers. He breathed out a sigh of relief when the pressure was finally relieved on his cock, feeling it spring free from it's confines.

Plunged in perpetual shadow, Ignis could do nothing more than let himself be engulfed in the sensations of Prompto, in the feeling of his smooth fist sliding over his length, in the warmth of his breath. He was forced into a moan when he felt a hot wet mouth wrap the head of his cock, and his body arched up off the bed. Prompto's mouth moved with expertise over his length. He could hear the wet sound echoing in his ears. He could still taste Prompto in his mouth, his lips, his tongue, his spit, his come. He felt a fist tightening at the base of his cock, as though strangling him in the best sort of way. Lithe fingers toyed with his balls, which he felt tighten in response, heavy and threatening close. 

Ignis felt himself groan, felt it start somewhere in his gut, felt it roll up and out of his throat and then he was hitting his climax, hands grasping at Prompto's hair, twisting into softness as his body tensed, feeling every part of him go hard and soft all at once. For half a moment he swore he saw colors again, and then he was coming down and his ears were filled with the sounds of his own panting, panting that was very quickly muffled by Prompto's mouth on his own.

Spice and warmth, tart and bitter. Ignis could taste himself on Prompto's lips, could taste that mingle of their sexes. They were flavors that otherwise should not have gone together, but in this moment there was nothing better in the entire world. It was enough to let him forget where they were, what had happened, what will happen. He combed his fingers through Prompto's hair, kissing him deeper, committing this moment, this flavor to memory in case they would never get the chance to do this again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh no, we're almost done! I wish I could keep this going forever! Thanks for all the kudos and comments, you guys are the best <3


	5. Sight

"Iggy. Iggy." Prompto's voice coasted over him in the darkness. The name was sing song and playful on his lips as the sound of him got closer and closer with each foot step. "Iggy. Ignis. C'mon, Wake up." It was affectionate and Ignis felt the bed sink slightly at the added weight, heard the springs barely creak beneath them. "I made toast."

"And you burned it this time." Ignis could smell it, that barely there acrid scent of over done bread wafting through like a warning.

"Only a little bit. I scraped off the really bad bits. Have one. And I made coffee."

Ignis felt Prompto then, lithe, flexible and warm against his back, nestling against him, fitting perfectly there, despite the difference in their heights. A soft, uncalloused hand slid down his arm, over the curves of his muscles until fingers intertwined. He felt a soft kiss against the back of his neck, intimate in the best kind of way. The younger man's lips were just slightly dry and chapped, tickling. "By that do you mean you've opened a can of Ebony and poured it into a glass?"

Prompto almost immediately responded by wrapping his arms around him, squeezing him in an action of mock threat, making Ignis laugh in response, and he roll over onto his back, dragging the younger man on top of him. "If I liked you more," Prompto started, "I would have actually gotten Ebony. Since I don't, I made coffee the old fashioned way. With freeze-dried crystals."

"You wound me."

Ignis heard Prompto snicker behind him, and he moved to stretch out on his back. pulling Prompto on top of him. He combed his fingers through soft blond hair before dragging him down for a kiss. The younger man tasted like burnt toast and coffee and it made him chuckle. The taste of it complimented the Prompto's natural taste of spice and warmth. "You've beat me to breakfast," he accused affectionately as his tongue flicked out to trace the shape of Prompto's cupid's bow.

"I wanted to make sure everything tasted okay."

"Did it?"

"I've had better."

"You must mean when I make breakfast, don't you?"

Ignis felt Prompto grin sheepishly against his cheek and he laughed a little more sincerely. There was a moment, the two of them laying comfortably together, wrapped up in each other, limbs intertwined, lips meeting for kiss after kiss. It was a taste Ignis knew he could never tire of, no matter how many times he's had it, no matter at what time of day. When he heard and felt a whimper against his lips, he rolled Prompto over, pushing him into the mattress as he moved to straddle him. He kissed him once more, long and lingering, tongues sliding against each other before he pulled back, and touched a hand to Prompto's cheek. 

Eyes fluttered open, adjusting to the light. Bright blue, glittering eyes were looking back up at him, looking at him like he were the most important person in the world. Ignis took his time, taking in this moment, memorizing it, taking a photo of it with his mind. At this distance, he didn't need his glasses. At this distance, the younger man beneath him was crystal clear the way he liked it. He admired pale skin, gently flushed, speckled with golden freckles, randomly dappled over his cheeks, down his neck, across his naked chest. His skin was gently marred with fading stretch marks from his overweight childhood. Blond hair the color of a baby chocobo's feathers was an appropriately fluffy mess. He watched Prompto's cheeks darken before a thin, muscular arm draped an arm over his face as though trying to hide. "What are you looking at, Iggy?"

"You," he finally responded, after a long moment of silence, "I'm looking at you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, you made it. It was short. It was sweet, I think. I'll be perfectly honest, though. I had been hesitating posting this chapter(epilogue?) ever since I finished it. Maybe because I didn't want it to end, or maybe because I had three other versions of this ending planned, or maybe because I thought I would lose you. I really really hope I didn't lose anyone. I intentionally went kind of vague with it, to match the ending of the game. Did everything reset? Did they all get their second chance? Is this just Ignis's dreamscape and they really died at the end of the game? Who knows. What they do know is that this is their happy ending. Or happy middle. ANYWAY.
> 
> Thanks for reading! You guys are the best. Love all the comments and kudos. Gave me something to look forward to. I have some other Prompto/Ignis stuff in the pipeline that I'm working. So look forward to that stuff, maybe!


End file.
